


A Promise Is For Keeping

by xspike4evax



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-16
Updated: 2015-09-16
Packaged: 2018-04-21 02:17:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,225
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4811159
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xspike4evax/pseuds/xspike4evax
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the aftermath of Willow's death, Buffy has to deal with Spike.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Promise Is For Keeping

**A Promise Is For Keeping**

_"I don't know what's the matter with Spike," Buffy admitted a frown on her face. She leant against the counter at the Magic Box where Anya was busy sorting through new stock. "I went to collect him for patrol and he was drunk again. I think I almost got drunk from the fumes coming off him. He's useless to us like this."_

_"Buff, there's something I gotta tell you. Willow was gonna tell you herself, but...." Xander trailed off, tears choking his voice._

_Buffy took a deep breath, but her own tears still fell. It was impossible to think about Willow, or talk about Willow, or see something that belonged to Willow without the tears starting._

_"It's about Spike," Xander said slowly. "About Willow and Spike."_

_"What about them?"_

_"They were a Willow and Spike thing," he said, his body shifting awkwardly. "She was going to tell you, but she just hadn't found the right way to do it. She didn't know how you'd take it, you know, what with Angel feeling's and Spike being a vampire... That's the reason Spike drinks, he misses her. He loved her and she loved him."_

_XxX_

Buffy vividly remembered that conversation. She also vividly remembered the feeling of betrayal that had accompanied it. Perhaps it was ridiculous, but Buffy had been hurt Willow hadn't shared the Spike thing with her. All these months later, Buffy still called it "the Spike thing" in her head. She couldn't quite grasp the idea of Willow; sweet, lovely, Willow, being serious about someone all evil and annoying like Spike.

She was forced to admit that Spike had been serious about Willow.

They had all struggled to cope since Willow's death. They had all cried. They had all mourned. They had all spent sleepless nights. They had all ached. They had all railed against the fates. They had all wished her back.

They were all still standing.

Spike had fallen apart.

XxX

_Sitting on the table, Buffy tried to conduct a meeting, she tried to focus on the demon she had come across the previous night, but Spike was making it difficult. As long as she'd known him Buffy had never really seen Spike still, he was always full of energy, always doing something whether it was smoking or fighting or just generally annoying anyone within his eye line. Now he sat quietly in the chair beside Anya, his eyes on the door of the shop; waiting._

_She tried speaking to him, but Spike didn't hear her. His eyes were glazed, turned inward to a world where Willow was only in the next room. It wigged her out beyond belief to see him waiting so patiently for a woman who would never walk through the door._

_Clearing her throat Buffy ploughed on with her description of the demon, but her voice faltered and her eyes kept drifting back to Spike. Even when she tried not to see him somehow Spike still managed to creep into her peripheral vision._

_It came to the point when Buffy couldn't bear it another second. "Spike?" Her voice rose, a thread of hysteria running through it. "Spike!"_

_Spike blinked, his head lifting slowly. He looked around, his eyes lighting on Xander then Anya and finally Buffy. She saw it, Buffy actually saw the precise moment when Spike returned to reality. A flash of pain flared in his eyes before his face crumpled and he let out a sound the like of which Buffy had never heard before; pain, anguish, loss, it tore from his throat and tore at her insides at the same time._

_He hunched forward, his face buried in his hands, harsh sobs racking his body. Buffy felt lost amidst such a maelstrom of emotions. She had honestly not anticipated such a reaction. As she floundered for something to say under the accusing glare of Anya; it was Xander who came to the rescue, kneeling at Spike's feet, his hands clasping tightly to the back of Spike's head as he pressed his forehead to Spike's, tears wetting his cheeks._

_When Spike grasped Xander in a similar hold, Buffy realised that this was familiar territory for the two of them. There was no hesitation, they leant on each other, they cried together, and Xander soothed the broken vampire as best he could._

_Watching them, being witness to so much grief and suffering made Buffy feel like an intruder._

XxX

The night breeze caressed her face as she made her way through the cemetery to Spike's crypt. Spike was not Buffy's favourite person to be around. He made her uncomfortable. He didn't mean to, but he did.

His grief was still so palpable she could feel it in the air. It was smothering and suffocating. When she was around Spike for too long Buffy swore she could feel her own throat start to close up as his misery pressed down on her like a ton of bricks.

Xander was always back and forth Spike's place, taking him blood and beer and cigarettes. Xander hadn't exactly kept it a secret from her, but by the time Buffy had found out it had been going on for so long it was simply part of Xander's daily routine. He claimed he had to go and visit Spike every day to make sure he ate something. Spike would just waste away on his ratty old sofa if he was left to his own devices.

Anya had been aware of the arrangement and Dawn had also known about it, Buffy had been the only one out of the loop. It gave her the school yard feeling of being left out. She remembered Xander's response when she had tried to suggest that Spike was old enough and mean enough to look after himself.

XxX

_"Yeah I know that, Buff," Xander let out a heavy sigh. "Its just that right now, he's sort of forgotten how."_

_"If you're going to run around after him all the time he's not going to remember," Buffy pointed out. "He's just going to rely on you all the time. That can't be a good thing."_

_"People handle grief in different ways," Anya said. "Spike can't cope by himself right now. He needs support." She looked at Xander hopefully, "Did I get it right?"_

_Xander smiled and nodded. "That's right, An."_

_"Maybe being nice isn't the way to help Spike, Xan. Maybe we should try the tough love approach instead?"_

_"Love's tough enough without you adding to it," Anya said crossly. "Just let Spike alone."_

_"Xan, all this drinking and moping around can't be doing him any good. If you leave him alone for a few days he'll soon sort himself out when he gets hungry or runs out of alcohol or cigarettes."_

_Xander shook his head. "I can't do that, Buffy. When Willow told me she loved Spike she made me promise to be nice to him. She'd expect me to keep that promise, even if she's not here."_

_Buffy nodded, rubbing her hand across the back of her neck. There was no arguing with that. She caught Anya staring at her and a worm of guilt wiggled in the pit of Buffy's stomach; she had the feeling that Anya, if nobody else, suspected her reasons for trying to pry Xander away from Spike were not entirely for Spike's benefit._

_Angel had left her. She had lost her mother. Giles had left. Now Willow was gone too. Buffy couldn't stand to lose Xander as well. Misery loved company after all, and the last thing she or Xander needed was for Spike to pull Xander down into his dark pit of despair. Buffy knew she wouldn't be able to carry on alone, she needed Xander too and Spike had such a tight hold on him without even trying. There was a closeness between them which certainly had not been there before. They had a bond of sorts, Buffy could see it when they were together; sometimes she felt as if she were on the fringes of her own life, hanging on to a fraying thread that could unravel beneath her fingers at any moment._

_Perhaps she was being stupid, but Buffy couldn't help worrying._

_There was some genuine concern for Spike in amongst all her jumbled feelings; Willow had loved him even though Buffy couldn't for the life of her imagine why. It was because of that love that Buffy too made a promise. "Alright, I promise to look after Spike too. For Willow."_

_XxX_

Pushing open the door, Buffy entered Spike crypt. Her nose wrinkled, stale smoke, stale beer, spilled blood; the disgusting aroma hit her head on, burning her nose. She coughed and picked her way to the sofa where Spike lay, sprawled across it legs akimbo, a beer bottle dangling from his fingers and a cigarette smoking in an ash tray on the arm.

"This place is a pig sty. You're disgusting."

Spike didn't even favour her with a look.

Angrily, Buffy stopped her foot. "Look at me when I'm talking to you, Spike. For God's sake get a hold of yourself."

He still didn't look at her, simply stared unseeingly ahead, her words and her presence affecting him as much as water on a ducks back. Buffy knew he was off in his little world again, a world where Willow still lived and breathed and his life was unchanged by her death. It was cruel to force him back into the real world and Buffy knew it, but there was something inside her that demanded she do it, demanded that Spike face reality. Buffy didn't quite know what it was, but whenever she saw him like this it made her spitting mad.

"She is dead! No amount of make believe it going to change it, Spike. Willow is dead!"

A raw, desperate groan clawed from his throat and Buffy did not know the words to describe the torment she saw in his face. "Leave me in peace, Slayer."

Temper flaring, Buffy kicked out at the beer bottle he held. Spike's hold loosened and the bottle splintered against the stone floor. "Alcohol isn't going to help. No matter how much you drink nothing is going to change!" Even though she knew every word spoken drove the knife ever deeper into his heart, Buffy couldn't stop herself. "You're not the only one who lost her! You're not the only one who loved her! She was my best friend! I lost her too but you don't see me drinking myself into oblivion."

Blue eyes touched her face, he gave her a long, steadying look; as though she were no more mysterious to him than a pane of glass. "That's your problem, ain't it?"

"What?" It came out a lot more waspish than Buffy had intended, but these days Spike really rubbed her the wrong way.

"I know I ain't the only one who loved her. I know 'm not the only one grievin'; but I do know it's my love an' my grief you can't stand."

"That's not true."

He snorted and shook his head. "Sure it is. Even if you won't admit it. Maybe you ain't admitted it to yourself, but that don't alter the fact that I'm right."

"I think all that alcohol has finally addled your brain." She sniffed, a look of contempt on her face. "I remember you when you first came to town; strong, brave, cunning, frightening; now look at you. You aren't even a shadow of what you were."

"Really bothers you, don't it. Guess I can understand that. The Slayer don't wanna think she's anythin' less than a vampire."

Buffy flinched. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Willow's gone an' she's never comin' back. It's destroyed me. Crippled me. Broken me. But you ain't broken an' you hate it."

Buffy felt as though he'd slapped her. He saw through her as easily as though she were one of the cobwebs in the corner of his crypt.

Spike struggled into a sitting position, running a hand through his unruly hair. "It's different," he spoke slowly, as though the power of speech was an alien concept. "She meant something different to each of us. When you lose someone you love the way I loved her..."

"I know what it's like to lose someone you love!" The rage she felt inflamed her face, her eyes flashed hotly. "I didn't just lose Angel, I killed him! I sent him to hell! I sent the man I loved to hell!"

"An' you didn't break. Your mother died an' you got through it. Now Willow's gone an' you're still standin'. You're the Slayer. Slayers are different to the rest of us. Slayers are solitary creatures, always 'ave been. They fight alone. They die alone an' they live alone. No matter what 'appens they carry on an' that's what you're doin'. It's all part of your make up, you might hate yourself for it, but there ain't nothin’ you can do to change it."

The silence which followed hammered in Buffy's ears. Spike only spoke the truth, but it didn't help; she didn't like how he made her sound. Her voice was a whisper, "I'm not dead inside."

She had feelings; more than just bitterness and anger. She loved her friends and her sister. She _was_ a friend and a sister and she had been a daughter. Her fingers curled into a fist. She wasn't just a Slayer.

Spike stood up, a little shaky on his feet. He glared at her. "An' I am? Just because I'm a vampire, a demon, you think I can't feel love! Well I do!"

His fury washed over her like a tidal wave and Buffy took a step back from him; but he advanced on her, crowding her, yelling at her and Buffy felt suddenly trapped.

"I’ve done so many terrible things. Monstrous things. An’ now I’m payin’ for it all. The wrath of God has finally fallen on The Order of Aurelius. Darla's dead. Dru's alone. Angelus has a soul an' the love of my life is dead!"

Buffy had never heard Spike talk about God before; it left her cold, it frightened her. A dam of emotion seemed to burst inside him and Spike howled; a sound that came from the very depth of his being. It was the howl of a beast in fatal agony; it echoed around the crypt as though every last brick was howling with him.

She watched in morbid fascination as Spike finally gave out and sank to his knees mumbling Willow's name; the sheer depth of his pain and torment evident in every syllable. “Grant me peace.”

Before Buffy even realised what had happened, she found herself at the door scrabbling to get out of the crypt. She was never coming back here. Not ever. Xander could deal with Spike from now on. It was too much for her. She didn't feel the way Spike did; not when her mother died, not now Willow was gone, not even when Angel had died.

Could Spike; a vampire, The Slayer of Slayer’s, Scourge of Europe, love more deeply and more fiercely than she could?

Stumbling into the grave yard Buffy ran. She ran from Spike. She ran from herself; tears burning her eyes but somehow not falling.

She stopped a few streets away, hand braced against a parked car as she caught her breath. She felt now as she had when she stared down at Willow’s lifeless body; useless. With all her strength and her fighting experience she could do nothing. She was just as lost as Spike was; but she had chosen to keep fighting whereas Spike had buckled under his grief.

There was no scorn in her for his weakness, just a gentle sadness and pity that he hurt so much. Maybe Spike was right and he was finally paying the price for all the dreadful things he had done over the years, but it was a high price to pay, and Spike wasn’t the only one paying the piper. They were all suffering the same loss.

Tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear, Buffy started off for home, walking slowly, her eyes on the lightening skyline. The pale pink of dawn washed softly over the sleeping town and Buffy relaxed somewhat, knowing all the big nasty’s were hiding out for the day.

_Grant me peace._

Buffy froze, Spike’s voice echoing in her ears. She had a bad feeling; it cloaked her shoulders and crept down her spine like ice water. Over the years Buffy had learnt to listen to her bad feelings. She did an abrupt about turn and headed back to the cemetery. With each passing minute the morning grew lighter and Buffy’s feeling grew heavier until she was running again, her feet pounding relentlessly on the sidewalk.

_Grant me peace._

She knew. She knew exactly what Spike was going to do. He had attempted to end his life once before. It wigged her out knowing it was Willow who had stopped him and now it was Willow who made him want to try again.

Perhaps as a Slayer she shouldn’t be racing through the cemetery trying to save a vampire. But it wasn’t just any vampire. Her best friend had loved this vampire and that changed things considerably.

Buffy saw him standing outside the crypt, the golden fingers of sunlight inching across the dewy grass towards him. She didn’t stop to call his name, every second counted. Eyes latched on Spike, Buffy pushed her legs harder, forced herself to move faster.

Horrified, she saw the light touch his boot, a thin tendril of smoke curling upwards. Spike seemed unaware of her hurtling towards him; his eyes were closed, his head thrown back and his arms outstretched as he waited and welcomed death.

There was never enough time to do everything, and Buffy knew she was out of time now. So she leapt. Sailing across the last few meters between them she barrelled into Spike, knocking the oblivious vampire back into the crypt. The back of his head crashed into the floor and Buffy winced, her stomach lurching at the sicken crack.

Spike lay there beneath her, stunned and confused. “What the hell, Slayer?”

Climbing to her feet Buffy frowned down at him. “Dying isn’t going to get you what you want. You won’t see her, Spike. She’s somewhere good. There’s no place for you there, you must know that.”

“What do you care?” His jaw tightened, clearly put out with her interference.

“Give Angel a call and ask him about hell, because that’s where you’re going when you do finally die for good. He’ll tell you how great it was. He didn’t want to leave.”

Propped on his elbows Spike scowled at the sarcasm. “What difference does it make to you? Thought you’d be glad to be rid of me.”

“Can’t say that wouldn’t be nice,” Buffy admitted, an impish grin crossing her lips for a moment. “But until you leave town, and I mean in the non dusty sense; you’re stuck with me. I’m going to look after you. I’d rather have you drunk than dusty.”

Spike was astounded and it showed. “Why?”

Buffy smiled, a faraway look in her eyes. “I made a promise.”

 


End file.
